


Buttercups and A Golden Thread

by KuyaReCom



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Christmas Fluff, Fluff, Gift Exchange, Hetalia Secret Santa 2020, I'M SORRY THAT IT'S 13K, M/M, Slight PruCan - Freeform, Slow Burn, Texting, Vienna Hetalia Server Secret Santa, a bit of angst, belgium and romano and spain friendship, first hetalia fic in years forgive me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:14:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28388364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KuyaReCom/pseuds/KuyaReCom
Summary: There's a morning train ride, and a broken phone, and a stranger among strangers that attracts Lovino's artistic eyes.Simply, the one story where it's just friendship, because even platonic feelings deserve a special place on the list of Christmas tropes. But there might be a sprinkle of romance, and who knows if it'll bloom or spark or end up in doom.
Relationships: America/South Italy (Hetalia), England/Spain (Hetalia)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	Buttercups and A Golden Thread

The journey to his university is always a hassle; departing at the crack of dawn with a lunchbox in tow that his twin had made, walking down the small hill, entering the underground subway and embarking on a train heading towards an English countryside. He always keeps a small thermos of hot coffee, so that he won’t fall asleep and miss his station again. Or if he feels up to it, he’ll watch some silly dog videos his best friend has sent. 

Today, Lovino opts not to do any of that - because one, he forgot his coffee, two, his phone is swimming in a river right now and three, completely unrelated and all but he’ll kill his best friend when that stupid Spaniard finally decided that running away from Lovino is a very bad decision.

Huffing irritatingly, he crosses his arms and leans back into the train seat, hoping that he’ll melt and evaporate into a puddle of goo so that he can assault Antonio like how he accidentally dumped his Iphone into the river. Not only that, but he also knocked over his coffee during his mad dash from Lovino’s painful kick.

Lovino sighs before massaging his forehead, the person sitting beside him gives him a strange look. He growls,

“What are you looking at?”

The person immediately turns their head away. Lovino sighs again through gritted teeth, he really needs to keep his temper in check for the sake of humanity. That therapy card Feliciano gave him felt welcoming of all sudden.

He shakes his head, trying to organise his currently rampaging thoughts. He looks around, since it’s the time where nearly all of England’s populations are stirring awake, there are few passengers alongside him. The train rattles noisily as it passes blinding tunnel lights, the handles swaying with no one clasping them tight.

The person sitting beside him is a woman with short blonde hair, he will have mistaken her for a boy if not for the ribbon tying a small ponytail at the back of her head. She’s dressed casually for a winter day and Lovino recognises her bag since it’s emboldened with the logo of the HetaUniversity. He turns around, he doesn’t need to greet her if he doesn’t even know her in the first place, despite studying at the same place.

He looks at a man sitting opposite him, who seems absorbed with reading a newspaper - who even reads newspaper these days? More importantly, this early?! The man’s glasses are perched neatly and even with his nonchalant face, he looks stoic and scary. Judging by his posture, he’s definitely tall. Lovino tears away from the pale blonde hair to look at the last occupant.

Unlike him and the rest, this one looks too energetic as if he has drunk three cans of Red Bull in one go - he’s sitting at the far corner and appears to be in a deep conversation with someone across his phone, free hand gesturing wildly. Lovino’s grateful for the guy’s decency to sit far away from him, he doesn’t want to communicate with someone like that in who knows fuckaton hour it is.

A chime resounds, and the recorded voice of the conductor booms about the next station they’re approaching is Oxford. Lovino gets ready by shuffling his feet properly into his sneakers and shoving his hands into the outer folds of his jacket.

The rails screech as the brake is pulled, making the transportation slowly lose its speed and finally stops with a binging whizz. Lovino stands as the doors hiss open, straightening his back after planting his feet onto the platform. He walks up the stairs steadily, and puffs a small breath after meeting the slightly damp air when he’s outside. 

He digs the soles of his sneakers into a thin blanket of snow before reluctantly moving in the frigidity surroundings, the tip of his nose coldens at the scratching air and Lovino burrows his face into his scarf, timidly hoping it’ll be enough to heighten his body temperature.

England’s winter is colder than that of Southern Italy’s, it’s the first thing Lovino had learned when he first took sight of the famously monarchian country. Also, the rain here is trying its hardest to only dampen his day, at least he doesn’t need to worry about freezing to death back at his thankfully sunny hometown.

Lovino only grunts at his inner comebacks, he really can’t fully shake off the permanent itch of his origins, can he?

Crossing the road, he’s going to turn at a paveway before someone clasps him hard on the shoulder, forcing him to instinctively turn around.

“Morning, Lovino!” Bella chirps, a hand up in the form of a greeting.

Usually, this is the part where he’ll grumble a good morning or nods his head in confirmation, except that today had kicked off with an unusual start so he spits out,

“What the fuck do you want?”

Bella freezes, then she curves her lips up, “Someone’s cranky today, what’s going on inside that tomato brain of yours, Lovi?”

He squints his eyes and deadpans, “Your death.”

She’s unaffected as she laughs, “You really need to work up your humour! Seriously though, you don’t look okay.” Humming a tune, she twirls a strand of her short, creamy brown hair around her pointer finger before blazing ahead, “What is it? Still hysterical over that Miku stream last night? Or you get into another fight with Feli? I’ll be supporting you unless it's the French wine or German beer topic again. Or no coffee? Hahaha that’s impossible, you always - “ She stops and looks at him.

“Shit. That’s true?”

“You’ll be surprised at how many shits Antonio can pull off before 5.” He says in reply.

Bella quietly drawls, “Wow … When, exactly?”

Lovino closes his eyes, trying to calm down the boiling anger tormenting his veins, “Just this morning, and you know what he did after that? He fucking ran away and I was just going to forgive him for fucking dropping my phone into the Thames last week, that fucking idiota.”

“I don’t want to count how many fuckings were in there,” Bella quips cheerfully, “give Antonio a break, he’s stressing over his assignment! And I’ll also run away if you chase me like some rabid dog.”

If this isn’t Bella, Lovino will burst into a string of profanities for calling him a rabid dog, but this  _ is  _ Bella, so Lovino merely gives her his deadliest glare and she grins at him like the ever optimistic waffle lover she is.

He kicks a stray pebble, which bounces forward. “I’m already giving him by not kicking his ass, okay.”

Bella shrugs, “Suit yourself.”

They chatter a bit even when they finally pass through the university gate and are heading towards their lecture halls, Bella rambles energetically about how her brothers are going to visit her during Christmas break and Lovino listens intently. In the middle of talking about her brother’s dog, she whips out her phone (clearly mocking his phonelessness) and shows him a picture.

It’s a fact that Lovino won’t ever utter that Bella is definitely pretty, her fan club can vouch for that - just that it seems to run in the family or something as her brothers are also of the same weight on the beauty scale. Take her Luxemborgian brother for once, the picture literally blinds his eyes as he looks at her brother grinning with his huge pet dog in his arms.

“Say,” she starts, her eyes not leaving the screen, “you free after class?”

“Si.”

“Great! Let’s go to this pub!”

Lovino gives her an incredulous look, “Bella, we have class tomorrow. I’m not going to shitface myself.”

She instantly shushes him, “No! We’re not going drinking. I’ve heard from Mathias that the tea there is amazing and everything except the scones are yummy.”

“Why would someone sell scones if they can’t bake it in the first place?”

“Beats me.”

“We live in England, Bella.”

She lifts an eyebrow, “Better taste the tea then. Take a break from your project, sip tea with me and indulge in British pastries, what can go wrong?” She persistently nudges him with her arm, “I know you want to.”

Lovino mulls over it for a few seconds, he answers dully. “Fine. But the espresso better be worth my time.”

Bella makes an offended noise at the back of her throat, “You Italians and espresso! I swear - it’ll be worth your time, okay?”

He knows Bella isn’t a liar, her gentle yet fierce attitude greatly reflects her moral values, like how he can describe her to be as familiar as the harmonising symbol of sensitivity; lavender, so Lovino firmly believes that she’ll ensure nothing goes wrong when he sits opposite of her, nursing a warm mug of coffee between his hands.

She’s focused on hearing his complaints about his day, nothing serious in particular, such as about Feliciano trying to make pizza spaghetti and adding too much mozzarella, and about his neighbour’s cat pissing his shoes that were drying on their shared balcony.

The pub is a two way attraction, restaurant and cafe in daylight and bar during nighttime. Since his watch is ticking with the number 3 at its shorthand, he enjoys the baked goodies Bella had recommended in advance. True to her words, everything tastes devastatingly delicious, now, if only the scones on display won’t look like they’ll give the health inspectors an aneurysm at any given second. The owner seems insistent on displaying their greatest cooking disaster anyways. 

To sum it up, nothing goes wrong. Until Antonio walks in.

It’s like one of those cliche rom-com movies, the bell chimes open and Lovino flits his eyes to look at whoever is entering, and time freezes. Because that is Antonio with his red scarf tied around his neck pushing the glass door and with a cheerful skip in his steps, is heading towards the counter.

And then he turns around and sees Lovino and his smile immediately drops like a dead fly.

Antonio squeaks, snapping Lovino to practically slap his hands on the table and screams, “Antonio, you bastard!”

Bella, her fork of a cut waffle clattering onto the plate from his outburst, spins in her seat and notices the tense situation as the mentioned bastard seems ready to bolt out of the door.

“Hey! Calm down, Lovino!” She says hurryingly, Lovino tries his hardest not to flip her off as he sends daggers of death and threat at Antonio. Bella hushes, her hands stilling in the air, “People are watching, please sit down!”

The few customers who are in the cafe are indeed watching them, and Lovino with great reluctance and not to embarrass them both, especially Bella because she doesn’t deserve to get dragged into his shitty mess, plops back into his seat.

Bella breathes a sigh of relief, but Lovino isn’t finished as he crosses his arms and dares through eye communication for Antonio to do something about  _ this _ .

Someone bursts from a door behind the counter, his ash blonde hair messy and emerald eyes darting worryingly around the space.

“Anything alright out here, lad?” He asks, voice rich with the British accent. Lovino assumes that this man might be the owner.

Bella smiles warmly, “Oh, nothing at all! Just an inconvenience happening!”

He smiles back at her, but his unusually thick eyebrows furrow in distress, “I thought that I heard someone shouting.”

Lovino decides to unlatch his stubborn mouth open, “That was me. Sorry.”

The owner focuses his sharp gaze at him before saying carefully, “Well, it’s none of my business but please take it outside, I won’t tolerate a fight in my pub.”

He answers, “It won’t escalate further, swear it won’t.” 

Nodding slowly, he claps his hands together in approval, “Now that’s settled - “ He lands on Antonio, who is still frozen like if he takes a step, Lovino will summon the Gatto Mammone to etch a donkey tail into his forehead.

The owner, presumably oblivious to his inner struggles, sends another charming smile at him, “Welcome, Antonio. The same, if I shall presume?”

Lovino watches suspiciously as Antonio finally gains back control over his limbs, he fumbles with his words and casts a quick glance at his direction. He rubs his nape and chuckles nervously, “Actually, Arthur, maybe not today, I -”

“Nonsense!” Bella chirps, her sudden interruption halting Antonio from making a random and unbelievable excuse on the spot, “He’ll join us, isn’t that right, Lovi?”

He snorts into his mug, Bella interprets it as a yes as she waves happily at Antonio. He hesitantly walks towards them and after adhering that Lovino won’t continue his brutal murder act, carefully sits on a frumpy armchair.

Looking up, he says, “Sorry and yes! I’ll take my usual order, Arthur!”

Arthur, definitely the name of the owner, Lovino further narrows his eyes - he smiles in confirmation, “Sure, Antonio. I’ll get it ready for you.” He turns towards them, “Anything you both want to add, dear customers?”

Bella declines for both of them with a shake of her head. With another gentlemanly smile, Arthur disappears into the back and Lovino shifts his gaze towards the man sitting beside him. Squeaking pitchingly, Antonio exclaims,

“Hostia! I’m sorry so please don’t kill me, Lovi!”

He says calmly, ignoring the swear in the beginning, “Since you took a week to apologise, I will kill you.”

Antonio cries, he shakes his shoulders, “I’m really, truly, deeply sorry! You know it wasn’t my intention to damage your phone! I swear I’ll buy you a new one!”

That perks his attention, he says, “You swear?”

“Si!”

“Swear upon your rich Espanya family heritage?”

“Si, si! But it’s half with my hermano, so half-si!” Antonio shakes him rougher.

Lovino smirks amusingly, “Just kidding. I forgive you.”

Antonio smiles widely, being one more person that’s so blinding that Lovino gets the gist why he misses him sometimes. Latching onto him, he bursts energetically, “Graci, Lovi!”

Lovino groans as he tries to shove him off, which obviously fails as Antonio’s sucking grip is like a leech. Resorting to patting him awkwardly at last, Lovino glares at Bella, who’s snickering in delight over her mouthful of creamy dessert.

After what seems like several sunsets, Antonio finally unlatches from his body. His goofy, blinding smile is still in place as he reaches for something inside his bag. Holding out a medium-sized book, he hands it to Lovino.

“Here, take this! I know it isn’t fair compensation but at the same time, use this if you’re bored.” Explaining airily, he nudges it into his stomach, Lovino merely ignores him in favour of taking the book and flipping it open.

His eyes widen in astonishment, “A sketchpad.”

“And your favourite brand!” Bella joins from her watching point.

“Feli told me that your last sketchbook is full, so I bought this for you. Do you like it?”

Lovino contemplates as Antonio sends him one of his expectating looks, and when he’s sparkling with innocent hope, Lovino is once again reminded why this man is his greatest weakness. Damndest of the damn.

“It’s okay.” He monotones out.

Antonio whoops, “So you like it!”

“Bastard, I said it’s okay!” It’s futile to refute it, Antonio will just flip the words like how he wrecks everyone in dancing.

He grins, it’s lopsided as he asks, “When are you free? I need my schedule to be clear if we’re going to shop for your new phone.”

Lovino blinks, he settles the sketchpad carefully on the table beside a plate of muffins. “Let me check my schedule when I’m back home. I’ll message you through Feli’s.”

Antonio reaches for a muffin, Bella is wiping crumbs from her lips as she says, “Can I go too? I want to buy a present for my brothers!”

“The more, the merrier!” Antonio only laughs merrily before shoving the muffin into his wide mouth.

The train is familiarly absent and quiet today too, that’s what Lovino manages to notice before yawning loudly into his gloved hand. He blinks blurred eyes at his sneakers, and thunks his head against the glass window behind him.

He has his thermos of hot espresso today, a gift from the heavens itself on this fine morning. Blissfully thanking Feliciano as he sneakily takes a small sip, Lovino watches the other few occupants alongside him. 

First of all, the blonde woman who coincidentally happens to be a fellow university mate is nowhere to be found. Probably a one-timer then, Lovino thinks. The intimidating man is still here, Lovino notes about his uncommon pallid skin that might’ve confirmed him to have dominant Scandinavian blood. He’s sitting farther than before, fully inept in reading today’s edition of The London Times.

Lastly, Lovino glimpses at the man occupying the same seat as last time. He’s not calling someone or subjecting them to an early morning torture, good, but he is still on his phone. Lovino watches as the man laughs loudly and looks vaguely disgusted as he pokes his tongue out.

Maybe it’s because he has his habitual coffee with him, or that he has reconciled with Antonio, but he gains a better look on the man’s appearance. For one, he’s zipped up in a cashmere bomber jacket with a black high-collared undershirt, great taste of style there. His wheaty blonde hair appears to be slicked both ways with a mortifying strand sticking out like it’s defying gravity.

Lovino shakes his head, shooing away the sudden thoughts. He sighs, the train’s bumpy journey sliding him to the left a few inches.

_ I’m free this Saturday _

_ Antonio Fratello~ = We’re both free then! Bella also got the green light _

_ 10? _

_ Antonio Fratello~= 11 _

  
  
  


The Scandinavian man isn’t here today, Lovino thinks to himself this morning. However, there’s another stranger, new to this time of train schedule, he guesses. She’s a prim woman with olive hair tucked neatly into a braided ponytail, and she spends the rest of the ride seemingly humming to a song from an MP4 player.

The wheat blonde is also here, he flits his eyes at him. This time, he has a thick book in his hands, and Lovino catches the title being Element of Robotics. Maybe those glasses aren't just for show then.

Lovino stretches and watches the rapidly changing view outside, he makes a mental note to catch Bella at her lecture hall to discuss the latest VOGUE magazine.

  
  


**From: beilschmidtdr@hetauni.eng**

**Dearest student,**

**As informed on the 1st of October, you’re expected to confirm your participation in the yearly ArtsHetaBang Shueisha JPN Collaboration before the 13th of December.**

**Please register with the head lecturer of your course before the deadline ends. Failure to do so will be resorted to your fortification from the programme.**

**From,**

**Prof Dr. Gilbert Beilschmidt,**

**Head of the Mechanical Engineering Department,**

**Head of the Students Advisor Group.**

  
  
  


Today feels sluggish, Lovino wonders if staying up late to have an intense round of Mario Kart with Feliciano is even a great idea anymore. He hasn’t replied to the e-mail sent by the assumed most narcissistic lecturer from the Engineering course, he is somehow relieved he hasn’t chosen it during his course-choosing days. 

Right now, his brain is muddled, giving him an early warning that he won’t be able to focus fully in class. His usual dose of caffeine can’t be his safety net since he has a feeling it won’t work. With that in mind, Lovino rolls his stiff shoulders, lessening the imaginary burden snuggling between his shoulder blades. 

Since his perception isn’t deep as usual, he barely registers the occupants for today. The Scandinavian man is back, but with a set of knitting equipment with him. Lovino blinks when he enters the train and sees the terrifying man looping warm pink wools to make what he presumes is a small baby sweater. 

Lovino totally didn’t expect that, maybe that’s why it took him a full 10 minutes to stop watching the man coordinating knitting on the train like some devoted grandma with 7 cats.

The proper brunette isn’t here, same with the blonde woman. But the wheaty blonde is, and he’s occupying his usual seat. Today though, he has no complicated book or phone to indulge in since he has his eyes closed.

Lovino watches, and after a solid amount of time has passed, those eyes are still firmly shut and he confirms that the man is sleeping. Genuinely amused, his tired mouth curves up into a smile. So the energetic stranger can also lose his steam, huh?

He continues watching. The man is dozing off heavily, even when his head hits the pole beside him, he isn’t aroused awake at all. Lovino watches, as the train moves along the tracks and the underground lights whiz away, as the man is deep in his slumber.

He forces himself to stop with a distracted sigh, he zips open his backpack to search for a poetry collection in Latin he had been lent from the university library a few days ago. What he pulls out is another thing entirely though, it’s the sketchpad Antonio had given him, which he happens not to doodle or left a mark on yet.

Something passes in his mind. Without thinking, Lovino picks up a stray pencil and flips open the pad. Staring at the blank sheet, he blinks and looks up at the sleeping stranger.

The man’s dressed warmly today, a scarf with the American flag pattern loosely looped around his neck like the Scandinavian still knitting quietly, a peach trench coat wrapped around his protuberant muscles and a pair of laced boots. If Lovino concentrates and tunes out the noises, he’ll catch the low breaths of the sleeping stranger.

The lights cast minimal shadows on him, and Lovino spots the bags under his eyelids. His face is peaceful and evidently full of youth, just the right amount that shows this man is mature and childish at heart.

And he sketches.

  
  
  


“How about this one?”

Antonio points at the newest Samsung butterfly on a perch at a nearby multi company branch, Lovino answers morbidly, “I’m not a Samsung fan, Toni.”

Bella laughs beside him, she grins, “A change once in a while won’t hurt, right?”

The shops on the street they’re walking in are displaying numerous items with discount stickers plastered everywhere. The crowd is hustling under the shy afternoon sun as a Christmas song blares, barely heard over the sounds of the people conversing about. Christmas trees fitting the upcoming festivity are standing tall, bells and lights joining together to become one merriment of jolliness. He might visit this place again during nighttime just to see them lighting up the whole area in a cascade of tinkling cheers.

Antonio opens his arms widely, “But you see, do you really want an Iphone, Lovi?”

Lovino mutely nods. Bella turns around and begins walking backwards, addressing Antonio as she speaks, “This counts as his early Christmas present so just give him what he wants.”

“What I want,” he cuts in, “is a phone so I won’t fall behind in class.”

“You did get a 4 pointer in finals?” She asks with a scrutinising look.

Shoving his hands deep into his jeans pocket, he snarls, “3.95.”

“Sorry.” She doesn’t sound sorry at all, she twirls around and side-eyes Antonio, who’s busy watching a dog wrecking the insides of a trash can. “Not everyone can get continuous 4 flats, I feel you.”

Lovino snorts because comparing two lowlives with the golden boy of the Architecture course is a very dumb thing to do. He pulls their respective elbows and drags them towards the nearest IPhone store in hope that Antonio doesn’t notice the churros stall.

Bella appears to be in deep concentration as she reads a pamphlet she had snatched from a metal rack, “Say. Don’t you want to try the latest Iphone 12?”

Lovino stares at her judgmentally, “No, I’m forever fine with 10. Why do you guys keep trying to change my phone preference?”

“Because your wardrobe is trendy but your phone isn’t?” Answering dutifully, she folds the pamphlet, Antonio agrees with a quiet si as he plays with the features on a displayed phone.

“Idiotas, I swear, you lot.” He quietly mutters. Antonio talks with one of the employees and after discussing for a short bit, she handles Lovino a phone box. He inserts a chip into its outer storage while Antonio swipes his platinum black card flawlessly, Bella asks him to do a peace and he gives the finger to the camera.

“Okay! Now to shopping!” Declares Bella as they left the store. Antonio obediently tags along as Lovino joins her to hunt every clothing store there is, exchange shops or even charity ones. Lovino spends probably half of his monthly allowance on two pairs of jackets that Bella had coaxed him as a waste not to buy.

“Won’t your brothers get mad if they know you’re spending money like this?” He asks curiously as Bella swipes her own credit card (gold, at least it’s lower than black) at their twenty-ish store.

“If they know.” She winks.

Lovino shrugs, her brothers just seem like the type to keep track of her account investment, the perks of having two siblings in the business market. If they can cook like Feliciano (which is impossible as Feliciano is a cooking god), then they’ll be the split image of perfect siblings. 

He is fiddling with a hanged sweater when Antonio pops up behind him, a small serving of churros drizzled with cinnamon he’s holding. Looks like he found the store anyways.

Antonio grins, “Want one?”

Lovino rolls his eyes, but he obliges to open his mouth and lets Antonio stuff a churro inside, he mulls on biting his fingers but he doesn’t want to cause a scene and waste precious food, so he quietly eats it.

“Which one do you think is prettier?” Asking him, he grabs another hanged sweater and holds them for Antonio to do his comparison.

“The navy one.” He answers after a few seconds, voice muffled with the snack.

Lovino nods, he puts the other back and checks the size of the navy one, finding it fitting his body size, he looks up to ask Antonio if it really fits him, but the question dies in his mouth when he sees him focusing sharply on an assortment of light scarves.

“Antonio?”

Startled, he whips his head to look at him, he sheepishly says, “Sorry. Was zoning there.”

Lovino ignores the totally bullshit answer, “Do you want to buy something?”

Antonio gives a not-so-discreet look at the scarves. Catching his murderous gaze, he sighs, idly waving a churros between his fingers, “Fine. Fine. You win. Yeah, I want to buy a scarf for someone.”

That catches his attention, “A gift?” He inquires.

Antonio’s oblivious to his curious eyes as he answers, “It’s a Christmas gift.”

“For who?”

It’s supposed to be an innocent question, but then Antonio opens his mouth only to close it back. Also, something akin to the redness of a blush is lightly dusting his olive skin. He struggles not to tumble over his words, “You won’t know him.”

“So it’s a male.” Bella points out, Antonio sputters and even Lovino jumps in shock as Bella struts behind them like she didn’t just make a comment on Antonio’s obvious gender preference.

“Who’s the lucky guy?” She asks cheekily, hands going through the choices of scarves with an expertise only someone majoring in Textile Design can do.

Antonio scuffs the sole of his shoe on the ground, a habit he always does when he’s unsure whether or not to confess about something, “A nice person.”

Lovino looks at him with disbelief, because everyone in Antonio’s eyes is a nice person. Seeming to read his thoughts, Antonio pitches in,

“He’s very nice, okay?! He helps brighten up my mood when I’m down, and his cooking is tasty! He knows I like churros with cinnamon, not to mention he’s pretty with those green eyes and his smile - he’s a nice friend! “ He shuts up after that.

Bella sends him a look with her eyes, they both can guess about who he’s talking about, Antonio will never be subtle with his signals. And sure, they might’ve only met the fellow once, but Antonio acts like a stupid raging teenager when he’s in front of him.

“Well,” Lovino starts, “we’ll help you choose a scarf for him then.” His tone holds no argument as Bella enthusiastically nods beside him. Antonio looks ready to retort, but he sets his face into a grim line and stays quiet.

They both set on finding the perfect one -

“Those polka dots look horrifying.”

“How about this one? Personally, I think those cat faces look adorable-”

“You’re biased when it comes to stripes-”

“No! Not that one! The shapes are too disorganised!”

“Ack! Get that out of my face!”

“Yellow and green is a crime, it’s bananas!”

Antonio sighs, accepting his fate as he continues to munch down the remaining churros. A staff member worriedly looks at them once in a while. They both stop their debacle when they finally agree on something.

“This one,” Bella unravels the full length of the scarf, “symmetrical, pleasant to the eyes. The red and white checkered patterns are simple and eye-catching.”

Lovino catches the end, “The decorations at the tip are light and suitable for accessory purposes, it will suit well with a casual and everyday look.”

They both turn their heads simultaneously to look at Antonio, “What do you think?”

Antonio shakes off his deep turmoil state, he shrugs calmly, “I trust your opinions so it’s fine?”

“Cool, you’re getting this one.”

  
  
  


Lovino plays with his new phone, he changes his home wallpaper to one picture where he and Feliciano were at Disneyland Paris, he was forced to wear Mickey ears but at least his twin also humiliated himself with those Ratatouille ones.

Since he uses the same model for many years, he instantly adapts to its features; adding contacts, downloading apps, fixing calendar dates and more. He snorts at an Instagram post where Antonio had posted a compilation of hilarious dog videos.

This morning’s train ride is not as usual, it is usually quiet with no human voice, only the sound of mechanicals working together to form a system. However, Lovino’s all alone, his sole presence the only one currently residing in the moving space. Both the Scandinavian and wheaty blonde aren’t here, only his seat is occupied as the train courses on its track. And Lovino goes back to tuning his new phone.

Oddly, he feels like he misses something.

  
  


The office is quiet in the late evening, almost placid and sluggish with no waves of students flooding in. There’s only one person busily shuffling through files of papers behind the Student Management counter. The secretary swivels in his seat to face him properly.

Eduard lifts both of his eyebrows as he taps the tip of his pencil against his chin, “Lovino Vargas from Creative and Visual Arts, right? Please sign here.” He slips a parchment towards him and Lovino bends down to curve his handwriting at the provided line.

Bringing out a notebook scribbled with margins, he says, “Now that’s settled, I need to know what your art trope will be for placement purposes.”

Lovino wants to answer food, the capturing photo frames of a whiff of coffee or the organic splatters of liquefied sauce, but he asks instead,

“Placement purposes?”

Placing the paper into a rectangular rotan basket not far from him, Eduan queries, “Since your brother is also entering, we need to refrain from having the same concepts placed together in close proximity.”

“Must I submit it now?”

Years of practice must have honed his communication skills, because Eduard barely hesitates as he answers calmly, “No. You may keep your ideas confidential, but we’ll appreciate it if you can cooperate with us before the programme launches.”

He thinks, until the assumed sunset dips in the unseen horizon, and until Eduard is still looping his infinite cycle of patience.

He clips, “I’ll submit it in the future.”

  
  
  


The wheaty blonde is on the train today and Lovino can’t keep his eyes off him.

This time; there’s something magnetising about the stranger, as if he’s the force of gravity and where the axis tips into a curt bow, just like how the underground shadows he carries stretch into a dizzying constant velocity of bloody dawns and forlorn tunnels.

And Lovino is seeing him as if he’s the only one destination in this golden thread he’s holding.

The stranger might’ve been a frequent doer of sleeping in moving vehicles, as he’s now in a deeper slumber than last time. His back is hunched and his arms are wrapped around a bundling bright coloured jacket, his kempt hairstyle is floppy and sneakers with littering star patterns are pressed side-to-side.

They’re the only two onboard. Slowly, with a late realisation, Lovino finds a separate entry into his heart where this subway space resides, quietly rattling against his ribs and sending travelling shadows through his veins. Just like the Scandinavian, just like the petite blonde, just like the charismatic brunette, just like the American.

Just like a watcher who needs guidance.

  
  


He keeps sketching the American.

Lovino’s not ashamed to say that yes, the American is attractive, his jaw is sharply defined and he has the clearest blue eyes he hs ever seen (from a distance of 3 metres, they do look clear) but he’s also not ready to confess or explain to a Feliciano who happens to horribly sneak a look at his sketchpad as to why he has half the pages full of the American out of all test subjects available.

“Fratello, who is he?” Feliciano asks, sugar running in his voice like the innocence he’s preserved with. Lovino instantly and undignifyingly recognises what he’s showing him, because he had spent too much train minutes thinking about how nice the American’s fingers look as they curl up against the spine of a thick robotical-something book, and because he thought that it would be a very _oh_ splendid idea to sketch them.

He swears his heart’s never beaten so fast as he snatches the pad away. Feliciano shrieks in surprise, and Lovino clutches the dared thing to his chest as he stammers,

“How - how much did you see?”

Feliciano tilts his head, shocked demeanor vanishing as he contemplates, “Until that page,” he inches closer, “Who is he?”

Lovino is very tempted to jump out the window or launch straight onto Feliciano and bullfight him, but he restrains himself and forces to answer like the civilised person he’s trying to be,

“Someone I met on the train.”

Feliciano still believes his words as easily since they were children, making it harder for Lovino to outrightly badmouth him or tell a lie, because lies are useless when you’re both shaped from the same egg and share the same thoughts. That’s why Feliciano grins, and dubiously asks,

“Do you have his number?”

“His what now?!” Lovino bursts in disbelief.

“His number~?” Feliciano sings, and damn, if only Feliciano’s voice isn’t described as an angelic choir soloist by nearly everyone they know, Lovino would have clamped his mouth shut immediately.

“Why would I have his phone number, you pasta addicted grouch?!”

“Because you drew him?”

“I don’t even know his name!”

Feliciano’s mouth drops into a small o, “Majika?”

Lovino doesn’t study Japanese but he’s pretty sure that’s a taunting remark.

“Why are you surprised?” He bristles, digging his nails into the hardback of the pad.

“Because you drew him ..?” Feliciano settles again unsettlingly, then he pouts, “You’re hopeless.”

Lovino makes an offended noise at that, he jumps into his feet, stance ready to pounce on him, “Huh?! How come I’m hopeless? Oi, where are you going, Feli?!”

Feliciano has his back turned to him as he heads towards the kitchen with a loud sigh, “I’ll cheer for you to get his number! Also, I’m making dinner, of course!”

“Put double the tomatoes!”

  
  


Lovino’s minding his business today.

The train ride is back with the Scandivanian, who has another kit of knitting equipment with him as he works on a pair of baby socks. Surprisingly, both brunette and blonde women are joining, the brunette leaning heavily against a standing pole as she scrolls down her phone while the blonde is fixing the uneven helms of her skirt.

The American is still here, and this time, he has a thin book propped on his knees.

Lovino reminds himself that he should stop watching, and he does. He opens the sketchpad and his fingers itch to draw, but he restrains, and jots down some ideas for the university programme instead. He knows Feliciano will do food, and he expects him to do it too, but he wants to do something entirely different this time.

Concentrating on the cursive handwriting he streaks against the paper, he doesn’t register the sound of boots thumping towards him, or how someone’s silhouette is approaching until a shadow looms over his sitting form and he instinctively looks up.

The American grins, waving, “Hey.”

This is another thing he doesn’t expect, so Lovino screams before slapping a hand over his mouth.

In the corner of his eyes, the Scandinavian looks up before going back to his knitting activity, Lovino hisses at the standing man, “What do you want?”

The American isn’t taken aback by his harsh response, instead, he laughs, “Nah, man. I just didn’t see you drawing me today.”

It takes a very slow moment for him to process, but Lovino’s face feels hot and a volcano erupts somewhere in his brain.

“You noticed?” He questions him through his bangs, hoping that they’ll shield him away from further embarrassment.

It doesn’t work as he sees the American’s grin widening, “Who wouldn’t? I can feel your eyes on me when I was sleeping, more so when I’m reading.”

He is perceptive it seems, Lovino curses his incapability of choosing a dense stranger to draw.

“Oh!” The American peeks, “Is that it?” Lovino follows his trail of sight towards the sketchpad he’s holding, he must have knocked it somewhat during his short outburst because it’s showing a sketch of the mentioned American reading.

He immediately slams it shut, “You didn’t see that.”

The man daringly laughs, his obnoxious voice sounding endearing, “It’ll be hard for me to unsee that, you know.”

“Then I’ll force you to unsee it.”

He wheezes, “You sound just like my cousin! Ah, what’s your name?” Asking him, he extends a hand.

Lovino looks at him irritatingly, the American says, “Do you prefer a fist bump?”

“Fuck off.” He flips him.

The brunette who’s not located far from them chokes, Lovino ignores her as he watches how the American’s face shows a hint of surprise.

“Guess I need to introduce myself first?” He says airily, “Well, name’s Alfred Jones!” Stubbornly, he extends his hand again.

Lovino reluctantly shakes it, grimacing at the frigid coldness of his hand. He whispers, hoping that he won’t catch it, “Lovino Vargas.”

Much to his dismay, Alfred hears it loud and clear as he exclaims, “Italian? So, it should be ur… piacere di conoscerti, Lovino?”

His pronunciation is flawless, which amazes him and prompts him to ask.

“Do you study Italian?”

Delighted that Lovino’s asking something, Alfred answers cheerfully, “Yeah, when I was 15! I'm multilingual.”

“Huh.” Lovino manages because what else is he supposed to say? Not only perceptive but good at communication skills, appearances are deceiving. “You go to which university?”

Alfred leans his weight into his left side, “Shueisha University.”

That sounds immensely familiar, and Lovino asks unconsciously, “Are you here for the arts programme?”

Alfred probably doesn’t guess him to say that because he gasps, “Whoa, how do you know - are you a HetaU student?”

“I’m a HetaU student.” Lovino confirms his speculation.

“Cool! I major in Robotics and Photography. The photography’s the reason I’m here because I need to take pictures of all the submissions. Does that mean you’re entering the programme too?”

He’s slipping out too much information, but he still answers it. Maybe it’s those childish curiosity in the sky blue eyes or the chaotic positivity running on a fused wire. “Yes, I’m an Arts student there.” 

Alfred claps his hands together, “That’s awesome, I know some dudes from HetaU but no one that majors in Arts. You know Mathias?”

“The Dane from Mechanical Engineering? Yes.”

As if it is still possible, Alfred’s eyes shine, that combined with the already stunning subway lights is a pain to handle for his eyesight, making Lovino to shield his eyes with a raised hand.

Luckily, the voice of the conductor chimes in at the exact moment Alfred’s opening his mouth, and Lovino absolutely takes this as leverage as he rushes to his feet.

“My station’s here.” He states while shoving the affronted sketchpad into his bag. Alfred moves, making way for him to situate in front of the nearest door just as the train begins to lose its speed, the lights no longer a running flurry of blindness. The train lurches to a stop and Lovino grabs the pole beside him, brushing the cold fingers of Alfred on it.

Stepping out of the door, Lovino rashly decides to look over his shoulder and sees Alfred looking at him with a sober expression. He’s still smiling and cheery, but there’s almost an air of anguish around him.

Without thinking, Lovino says, “Bye.”

He sees the slip second when the doors nearly clang shut, at the dissipation of the uncharacteristic aura and a smile that can melt the toughest glaciers Alfred had directed at him. 

Antonio flops into the seat beside him, sighing wistfully as he leans onto his left shoulder. Lovino tries to shove him off but Antonio intends to squish him whole as he whines, “Loviiiii-”

“What the fuck do you want?” Lovino demands as he tries his best to focus on his assignment, which is futile as Antonio keeps pressing down on him and eventually forcing him to turn his attention towards his troubled friend.

“So, you know that I’m free this Christmas, right?”

Lovino searches inside his brain for any memory semblance of it and remembers that casual hangout at the university lake where they’re feeding the ducks, yeah, maybe Antonio had said it, Lovino didn’t have the memory accuracy of a genius.

So he shrugs.

Antonio continues, “I was thinking of inviting someone out.”

“Like a date?” Lovino says plainly.

Antonio sucks in a breath as he turns his head away from him, but he can still see red-his tinted ears. “Ambiguous.”

Lovino looks at him helplessly, “Is this with that scarf guy?”

Whipping his head, Antonio drags his palms down his face, “Maria - I don’t know what to do, Lovi!”

Lovino refrains from shooting that down with the count of exes which shows how successfully flirtatious Antonio is in the first place. He bluntly states, “Just ask Arthur out, Antonio. He’ll accept it.”

Antonio splutters an undignified “How -”

Lovino tunes him out, he sighs deeply as Antonio shrieks about how he even knew it and etcetera, that kind of stuff.

“How about this? I’ll help you score a date with your darling Arthur and you leave me the fuck alone?” He bursts out after Antonio has finished his long rant of obliviousness and hopelessness about his crush -

Which is the worst thing to say as Antonio’s eyes shine like two giant pieces jewels and he grasps his hands while screaming energetically,

“Really?! Lovi, you’ll really do that?! Graci, you’re the best!”

Lovino’s aghast as he bellows, “Hey! You’re getting the wrong -”

“You won’t help me?” Antonio quickly droops.

“... Fine.” He relents, and Antonio fastly regains his optimism to crush him into a hug. Lovino squeaks, and he delivers a blow to his head in retaliation. 

  
  
  


Alfred’s here again, and of course he’s sitting next to him.

Lovino’s controlling himself not to spare any attention to him, as he doesn’t want to no matter what his sketchpad says and he doesn’t want to have any more linking connection with him (a huge lie but as if he’ll ever say the truth)

But it doesn’t help as Alfred continues to chatter about the mindless things, which unfortunately still attracts his attention despite his obnoxious voice. There’s just something charismatic about his enthusiasm in the dead of the morning on a train ride, which badly wants to make Lovino barf.

“So I said to him ‘You don’t understand the concept of modern music anymore, old man’, he still favours The Beatles over modern music. I tried recommending him some techno like Ievan Polka but he cringed so hard!”

Lovino doesn’t want to believe it, but he shoots a question, “You know Vocaloid?”

Alfred blinks before grinning madly, “Man, you keep surprising me! I love Gumi, what about you?”

“Rin and Len.” He answers before he can take it back.

Alfred laughs, the sound revertrabating in the small transportation space. 

“We can be best friends!”

Averting his gaze away, Lovino sneers, “I doubt we will.”

  
  


“Have you thought about it?”

Lovino puffs a misty breath as he scruffs the snow-coated pavement, “Not yet, sir.”

The air is languidly chilly, frosty to the bone and bringing an aura of gloominess. Gilbert sighs through the phone, a sound that reveals the disappointment he didn’t bother to stash away before addressing him.

“Lovino, make sure you send your answer before tomorrow. I don’t want to remove your name from the list.” He rattles, his voice sounding rougher, probable to the cold weather. Lovino catches the sound of rustling papers and heavy footsteps in the background.

Grasping his phone properly with his gloved hand, he says, “I’ll make sure about that.”

“Good, good.” Gilbert replies in a way that only experienced educators can patiently do. “Then I hope to see your email in my inbox before tomorrow. Have a nice weekend, Lovino.”

“You too, sir.” He curtly replies. The line goes quiet and Lovino stares at his phone screen with disdain. He turns around to briskly walk towards Antonio, who’s waiting for him while sitting on a bench nearby.

“Was it Gil?” He perks happily, “You look like you just had an exhausting convo with him.” This time with concern as he deflates.

Lovino doesn’t give him the audacity to worry more as he says, “It’s about the Arts programme. I still haven’t submitted my ideas yet.”

Antonio’s brows furrow in confusion, “Don’t you always go for food?”

“Bella said that I need to stop with the tomatoes.” He flats out.

Antonio offensively gasps, “But you won all those contests with tomatoes! That’s not an excuse!”

Lovino groans, “I know right? Why is it hard for other people to understand the art of tomatoes?”

Antonio leans forward, genuineness singing in his coral irises as he asks, “Still, why don’t you want to go for your usual run?”

Looking up at the gathering clouds, he mutters quietly. “I don’t want to.” 

Humming in confirmation, Antonio stands, “I don’t want to freak out, Lovi, but I still think this is a bad idea.”

Lovino wonders if that bad idea is about his unwillingness to pursue the divine art of tomatoes, but he soon registers what on earth the latter’s referring to - and he snarks, “This whole getting you on a date with a pub owner is a marvellous, fantastico idea, you ungrateful bastard -”

Antonio shushes him, he really wants to get punched, “It’s not a date, okay. Just a random casual hangout with a friend!”

“On Christmas?”

“On Christmas!”

Lovino kicks a pebble, “Do tell me why can’t you just reconcile with your fratello and go back to Portugal already?”

Antonio dramatically winces, “We have a shit ton of history. Not exactly family-friendly to bring it up.”

Lovino side-eyes him, and decides not to prod further. He knows everything about Antonio’s family issues, of course, but he’s literally the only person that can always check on him to see if he’s fine. 

“We’re here.” He declares and feels Antonio freeze beside him. 

He pushes open the door and shoves the statued Spaniard into it, blissfully basking in the sluggish heat of the shop as the door clanks shut. He looks around, seeing very few customers at a corner and no one manning the counter. The Christmas decoration is more extravagant, lighted-up trees placed around and fairy lights hanging wondrously, there’s a gentle festive song being played.

Heading towards the displayed goodies, he says mindlessly, “Huh. Wonder where your boyfriend is.”

“He’s not my boy -”

“Can I help you?”

Jumping back, Lovino’s pretty sure he didn’t see anyone behind the counter, but voila, there’s suddenly a wheaty blonde looking at him. Antonio makes a small squeak, confirming that Lovino’s not the only one affected. The blonde’s hair is curly, and a pair of glasses shield equally lavender eyes. There’s something oddly familiar with him, but Lovino just can’t put a finger as to what.

“Can I help you?” He repeats, and Lovino goes straight to the question.

“Is Arthur here?”

He blinks, looking interestingly at Lovino before appearing to mentally reject something and glances at Antonio next, “So you’re the hot Spanish man that Arthur keeps talking about?”

Antonio immediately chokes on air, “Wh-What?!”

He nods to himself, finding the panicked action acceptable, “Seems like it. Please wait, I’ll call for him.” He pushes himself from the counter, turning around to disappear through the back door.

As the door shuts, Lovino gives Antonio an incredibly smug look, lips curling up in a taunting smirk.

“See?”

Antonio squeaks, his flustered face red, “Lovi -”

“He called you hot.”

“Hot is a definition for everyone, you are hot, Bella is hot, the earth is hot -”

The door slides open, and Antonio flits his eyes to it and whimpers, “Joderme, he’s hot.”

Lovino interestingly looks at it too, and there’s Arthur with a simple white shirt on, the top three buttons open, revealing a glimpse of a sharp collarbone and woah, decent-sized muscles. Spotting how his sleeves are rolled up and the sheer messiness of his hair, Lovino assumes he’s in the middle of baking.

“Yes?” Arthur asks, his voice gruffy, and Antonio beside him whimpers more.

Lovino takes the lead, because it seems that Antonio is in a helpless mode where he can only utter pining sounds. “Hello again, Arthur. We would like to order.”

Arthur tilts his head, and somehow Antonio still has the decency to harsh out a “ _ Lindo _ .” Lovino prays to the god above that Arthur doesn’t understand Spanish to spare the idiotic Spaniard further humiliation.

Arthur might have not heard him as he continues, “I thought that Matthew was available for it, do you need me for something?”

Lovino coughs, “Well, this idiota wants you for something.” He then gestures at Antonio, whose face now looks akin to volcano lava.

“Oh?” Arthur says, turning his head to face him, “Are you okay, Antonio? You look alarmingly red right now.”

He stammers, “Um, I’m fine! We actually came here, to, to, ur - “ Lovino glares at him, Antonio wildly repulses out, “Try your new recipe!”

In the farthest corner of his brain, Lovino adds more to his list of why Antonio is a total dumbass.

Arthur quirks an eyebrow, “But didn’t I tell you to come tomorrow?”

That line convinces Lovino to think that they had long toed the acquaintances line but Antonio was torturing himself by assuming that they’re still strangers. What an oblivious idiot.

He laughs awkwardly, rubbing the side of his head, “It’s better if I come early, isn’t it?”

Arthur then smiles, Lovino can feel Antonio’s brain running at a Shinkansen speed right now and crashing into a wall.

“It does. I have just finished baking it, I’ll take it soon to your seats, okay?”

Antonio nods eagerly, he grabs Lovino’s shoulders and steers them away from the counter, “Glad to hear it!” He bubbly says, shoving Lovino into an empty seat nearby.

When Arthur has gone back to prepare for their upcoming tasting session, Lovino drops the polite smile off his face and whacks Antonio’s head across the table.

“Che cazzo, seriously?!” He hisses, watching as Antonio grabs his head in pain and slumps onto the table, the tissue box on it rattling.

He groans, muffled and defeated, “Acabar conmigo.”

Lovino spits out, “I’m not ending you. You look like you’re one second away from combusting in the spot anyways.” Crossing his arms, he looks at the top of brown hair sternly.

When Antonio keeps being silent, it’s a confirmation that he’s brooding, so Lovino lets him be. He still adds though, “Don’t fuck it up next time.”

Staying silent, Lovino decides to lean back and wait patiently. A few seconds passes before Antonio unplasters his face from the tabletop, a grim and determined look on his face as he says, “I am going to say it.”

“You will say it, sunshine boy.” Lovino glares, “You will get a Christmas date with Arhur, you hear me?”

“But what if he declined it -” There it goes again, he might be inempertrable but when Antonio does take a step into dark territory, it’ll take a while to pull him back up to the sun, the place where he rightfully belongs.

Groaning, Lovino nearly facepalms himself, “Look. Arthur will accept it, you bastard. If he doesn’t, I’ll go wrap him nicely and haul his ass to you.” He says lastly, not caring if he really means it or they’re in public.

“Woah, dudes. Arthur’s not in that kind of stuff.”

He isn’t expecting a voice to suddenly intrude in, causing him to freeze in shock. Antonio on the other hand has transformed his kicked-puppy face into the usual cheery sunshine, the sudden change shocks Lovino even more that he doesn’t dare to turn around.

“Hola, Alfred!” Chirps Antonio, and that name sounds very familiar, also the following voice, rowdy and obnoxious, and a constant company in his morning train rides, “Hey there, Toni!”

Lovino finally turns around, and regrets it because Alfred is standing behind him, hands tucked inside his zipped bomber jacket and a goofy smile on his charming face. His expression falters a bit when he meets his eyes, but he quickly recovers as he joyously says,

“Woah, Lovino! Never expecting to find you here!”

Antonio looks back and forth at the two of them, and of course it’s a cliche question that sprouts out of his mouth, “You two know each other?”

At the same time Lovino lies through gritted teeth, Alfred answers.

“No.”

“Yes!”

He wants to add more but Alfred beats him to it, “Remember that dude I was talking about that I knew from my train rides? This is him!”

“The one that drew you?”

Lovino wonders how much they had exchanged words about him, both knowingly and unknowingly - as he watches in horror as Alfred nods, and Antonio suddenly has this knowing look he’s sending across the table at him. Lovino successfully controls his temper and thankfully doesn’t explode, but that makes him shake and his fingers twitch.

Alfred might’ve noticed it, Lovino can’t think straight - anyway, Alfred pitches, 

“Why are you talking about Arthur by the way?”

Antonio’s smug face shuts down at the mention of his beloved crush, Lovino snatches this opportunity to place the attention back to his issue, “Antonio wants to take him out for a date.”

His expression morphs into surprise, “Dudeee, you have the hots for my cousin? For that boomer? The one who cries over Doctor Who in the final episode?”

He nods speechlessly to all of that, and Alfred gapes, “Wow. When’s the date?”

“Christmas.” Lovino answers in his stead.

Alfred frowns upon hearing his answer, Antonio notices it, surprisingly.

“Is he unavailable?” 

“Sort of? He’s gonna spend his morning with his brothers first, afternoon’s with his best friend and at night with me and my twin.” Alfred answers.

Antonio groans, face in his hands, “I’m hopeless, so hopeless, Lovi -”

“But my twin has a date with this German guy and I can cancel my plans with Arthur!”

“You don’t have to do that -” Antonio begins, looking up with setted eyes that say Alfred really shouldn’t do it.

Alfred casually waves it off, “Nah, man. He’ll appreciate a date with you more than binge-watching C-grade horror Christmas movies with me.” Then he turns to look at Lovino, and something unsettling crawls inside him that’s warning him whatever’s coming isn’t going to be good.

“By the way, are you free this Christmas, Lovino?” He asks, head tilting innocently.

Lovino narrows his eyes, he doesn't like where this is going. “And if I say no?”

Alfred looks momentarily confused, “But Antonio said that your brother has a dinner date with his boyfriend that night?”

Lovino curses under his breath and sends Antonio one of his infamous death glares, the Spaniard merely chuckles and gives him a supporting wide grin.

“So what if I do? You’ll take me out on a date or something?” Lovino manages to bite out.

Alfred blinks owlishly, probably not expecting the venom in his words, but what he says next makes Lovino reconsider his life decisions, “I guess you can consider it as a date?”

Antonio shrieks with glee, “Lovi! You just scored a date!”

“Shut up! I haven’t even agreed yet!” He hisses at him, feeling the tips of his ears becoming hot. When he had slipped it out did he notice that the implication of the answer is a yes, and it’s too late to take it back as Alfred shines with the same brightness as a star on top of a Christmas tree.

“Cool! I already have your number, so I’ll arrange it with you soon!” Before he can ask him how he even got his number in the first place and murder Antonio on the spot, he notices Arthur approaching them.

“Action time, Toni. Don’t fuck this up.” After saying that, he puts on his best smile, watching amusedly as Antonio flusters once again.

Arthur places two small plates of brownie servings on the table; they are golden brown in colour with cherry red layers, the white coating on the top is evenly spread, not a flaw in sight. Lovino marvels at the delicate decor, can’t imagine the amount of work it took to appear with such an astounding appearance.

“Here you go. Please give honest feedback when you’re finished.” He steps back before looking at Alfred, gentle eyes sharpening.

“And you, why are you doing here so early?”

Alfred scrunches his nose, “Mattie asked me to fill in his shift since he has some errands to do. Do you know where he is?”

“Probably in the kitchen.” Arthur points out, eliciting a happy grin from Alfred as he hops towards the direction.

After all of this has happened, Lovino kicks his leg underneath the table, rolling his eyes to the left, signalling Antonio to make a damn move. Antonio responds by shoving half the brownie into his mouth.

“What flavour is this?” He asks in hope of helping to lighten the mood.

Arthur smiles diligently, “Mulled wine. But I added a few light herbs that might get along well with it.”

“Hum.” Lovino thinks about it, he picks up his fork and cuts a small portion of the brownie’s corner, immediately being amazed at the satisfying crunching sound mixed with the tenderness protruding from the edge of the metal utility. 

He can hear Antonio taking a deep breath, “Hey, Arthur. Do you have plans this Christmas night?”

Lovino puts the brownie piece into his mouth and his eyes widen.

“I do, actually. Alfred and I are planning to have a movie marathon.”

“Alfred didn’t tell you? He has plans with Lovino here.” Antonio gestures at him, Lovino doesn’t have the heart to glare while feeling his taste buds explode into a tantalizing frenzy.

“Really?” Arthur halts, voice filled with disbelief and wariness, he puts a hand under his chin, “Alfred has a habit of repeating the same thing, it’s quite hard to imagine him breaking his own tradition.”

“Then Lovi’s here a catcher, isn’t he?” Antonio grins, and Lovino represses the urge to roll his eyes and stab him with the fork he’s clenching.

Politely smiling, Arthur says slowly, “And the reason you’re asking me this …?”

The confidence etched on Antonio’s face nearly slips out, so Lovino kicks him unsubtly underneath the table again, managing to save his ass and earning a loud yelp from the stupidly whipped man. Antonio blurts out on impulse, “Go out on a date with me?!”

Lovino really wishes he could deck him, where does the smooth Spaniard bastard he has always known when to?

He looks at Arthur, and notices how his face has turned into the same shade as the brownie’s red layers, visibly red under the twinkling Christmas lights. When he turns to Antonio, he’s met with a gobsmacked face and gaped mouth that clearly spell the word _WHIPPED_ with candy canes dancing in the background.

Arthur scratches his nape, shyly averting his gaze as he answers timidly, “I need to confirm with Alfred first, but I’d love to.”

Lovino regrets not bringing a pair of sunglasses with him as Antonio suddenly smiles with the shininess of gazillion stars, mouth curving gleefully and face radiating utter happiness. Even though he’s not the one it’s directed to, his eyes still hurt - and judging by Arthur’s flitting gaze, he’s also thankfully not immune to Antonio’s embodiment of the sun itself.

“Nice! You can talk with Alfred first before you agree to this, I can wait!” Antonio chirrups, voice melodiously happy and delighted. Fottere, Lovino has known him for years and his tough heart still melts from his optimism. 

Arthur nods, cheeks still flushed wine red. He brushes a strand of hair, “So, care to tell me how the new recipe tastes like?”

Antonio opens his mouth, but Lovino doesn’t want him with his simple taste in food to give useless opinions, so he beats him to it.

“Fantastico. Splendid. The bitterness is well-balanced, the taste is not too overwhelming but not mild either, just light and suits the wine flavour. If there’s one thing I might not be satisfied at, it’s the bottom layer, not enough crispiness but a longer baking time shall improve it.” Lovino rants, carefully detailing the marvellous brownie, he adds thoughtlessly, “Antonio, marry him. You won’t regret it.”

He stops.

Antonio screeches, “Lovino!”

  
  


_ [Unknown] = heya lovinooooo _

_**Who tf is this** _

_ [Unknown] = woah, I’m deeply hurt! _

_**I’m blocking you, fucker** _

_ [Unknown] = nooo don’t! IT’S ME, ALFRED _

**_I know no one by that name_ **

_ [Unknown] = FR IT’S ME _

_ [Unknown] = don’t you remember me, buttercup _

**_Fine_ **

_ [Stupid American with nice fingers] = love cha! Btw wanna talk about our date _

**_Fuck no_ **

_ [Stupid American with nice fingers] = DON’T BLOCK ME _

_ [Stupid American with nice fingers] = meet me at the pub? Cafe??? England’s places are WEIRD. It’s gonna be closed bcs it’s Christmas so just meet me there _

_ [Stupid American with nice fingers] = I know you’re reading so just meet me, kay! _

**_I’ll fucking block you_ **

_ [Stupid American with nice fingers] = I’m convinced that you’re not going to bcs you’ve said that earlier _

**_What a genius_ **

_ [Stupid American with nice fingers] = don’t insult me! I graduated at the top of my class fyi _

**_I know that_ **

_ [Stupid American with nice fingers] = You’ve been asking people about me? Aww, don’t pursue me in secret, Lovi buttercup! _

**_Fuck no. Sheishua is the top in Japan, ofc it’s a thing its students are smart enough_ **

_ [Stupid American with nice fingers] = You spelled my uni name wrong. _

_ Cazzo scusa, I’m not multilingual. _

_ [Stupid American with nice fingers] = It took me months to not trip over japanese names yk being multilingual doesnt mean I can absorb a dictionary if I want to!!! _

_ [Stupid American with nice fingers] = It’s Shuishea. S H U I S H E A _

**_Whatev_ **

_ [Stupid American with nice fingers] = XDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD _

_ [Stupid American with nice fingers] = kay3 I have a meeting with hetau’s bod in 5 mins. Remember our meeting at the cafe, buttercup _

_ [Stupid American with nice fingers] = u don’t have to dress up, you look good enough 😚👍 _

#  _ 🖕 _

  
  
  


“So I heard you score a date?”

Lovino looks up to see Bella hovering over him, waggling her eyebrows while smirking at him with her usual catlike grin.

He settles his pencil on the piece of art he’s been working on, a sketch of the overview of the lake near the Arts building, he says, exhausted to deny the nature of what the meeting between him and Alfred anymore after Feliciano’s intense interrogation (grilling) last night, “Let me guess. Antonio told you, didn’t he?”

Bella flops onto the grass beside him, her skirt flattening, “Nope! Everyone’s been gossiping about it!”

That is worse than having his best friend talking behind his back, Lovino grunts, “Huh. What’s so special about this to have them running their mouths?”

“Because it’s with a SU student?”

“And?”

Bella gapes, “I heard there’s a hot photography student, Jones. That’s your date?”

Lovino ignores her, brain muddling with his previous lecture’s thoughts and the constant nagging to determine a theme he should use for the upcoming collaborative event.

Groaning in defeat, Bella lays fully on the grass, stretching her limbs, “Guess I’ll just wait to see who it is.” 

Rolling to the same side, she stares at him.

“I’m glad.”

Lovino looks tiredly at her, and she only smiles at him.

  
  
  


Waking up at the crack of dawn always tries to tamper his sleeping schedule, as Lovino is a deep sleeper by nature and genetics, he sometimes might have smashed his alarm clock to pieces or missed his station because he has fallen asleep again.

This time, he has boarded the train late, and when he means late, it’s at the time when the compartment is suffocating with a crowd of people. He luckily finds a secluded corner after being squeezed the life out of him and sits at it, regretting watching the Hatsune Miku live stream until 3 am.

He pulls out his phone from his pocket, and is fastly mesmerized at the number of messages lining up. He opens the chat.

[Alfred] = hey

[Alfred] = where are u

[Alfred] = lovino

[Alfred] = LOVINOOOOOOOOOOOOO

[Alfred] = buttercup?

[Alfred] = ure not taking the train 2day?

[Alfred] = it’s boring without u here

[Alfred] = borrinngggggggggg

[Alfred] = n I don’t have a book with me :(

[Alfred] = hear this hear this

[Alfred] = so

[Alfred] = I tried talking to the serious glasses guy

[Alfred] = dude seems cold but he’s ok??? Not friendly much but he stays quiet when I’m talking so guess that’s nice

[Alfred] = asked him about him, etc. Dude’s Swedish! Attending stockholm uni in interior designs, and get this, get this, HE’S BROTHERS WITH MATHIAS

[Alfred] = I’m surprised bcs man, he doesn’t LOOK like mathias. But they have the same blue eyes and shade of blonde hair so it’s 50-50.

[Alfred] = there’s another thing

[Alfred] = he’s MARRIED

[Alfred] = and he commutes everyday to visit his wife, and I asked him how old he is 

[Alfred] = 24

[Alfred] = the same age as Mathias

[Alfred] = does that make them twins???

[Alfred] = I can’t think! HELP LOVI

**Just ask Mathias, idiot.**

[Alfred] = :D

[Alfred] = LOVINO

[Alfred] = I want to lmao but I want to say it to you first

**Why**.

[Alfred] = bcs you have a twin, right?! Feliciano?

**Don’t bring my fratello into this**

[Alfred] = come on, I know ure curious too! You said to me that one time about how mysterious Swedish dude is

**We’re not talking about this. Just fcking ask Mathias, idiota**

[Alfred] = JEEZ, fine

[Alfred] = btw where are u

**I’m on the train**

[Alfred] = lol did you oversleep

**Fuck off.**

[Alfred] = I’M RIGHT

[Alfred] = miku’s stream is long, but I have a nonexistent sleep schedule so I’m fine and and dandy

**Bless you.**

[Alfred] = isnt bless you a goodbye greeting to the death? Bah, have a safe trip, buttercup!

**Have a nice day, idiot.**

  
  
  
  
  


“Have a nice date with Antonio, don’t break his heart.”

Lovino stands inside the dark cafe, the chairs are placed upside down on the tables, and only the small Christmas tree at the corner is lit up, washing the store with festive colours of red, green and white. Outside through the glass window, pedestrians loiter around, the bright lights spilling in.

Arthur shakes his head, a small smile stretching his lips, “I won’t. He’s a nice person.”

Lovino narrows his eyes in doubt, but then Alfred booms beside him, patting his back and nearly sending him tumbling onto the floor.

“Come on! Have confidence with him! Arthur’s a pessimist, but he keeps his words!”

Arthur’s mouth turns down slightly at his words, “I don’t know if I should be honoured about that.”

Alfred smiles wider, “You should!”

Arthur spits out a curse underneath his breath, he taps his gloved fingers on his elbow before checking his watch, worriness in his voice as he says,

“He’s late.”

Lovino clicks his tongue, doesn’t bother to hide his disappointment at his friend’s decency of making his date wait, “Of course he is. When you go on more dates with him, expect him to be as late as this.”

Alfred sends him a knowing look as Arthur visibly reddens by his statement, Lovino has no regrets as he crosses his arms, being brutally blunt is one way to help Antonio stop his over-pining after all.

Talking about pining, he stares at Alfred under his bangs, who is making fun of his cousin as he playfully details how he has it bad for Antonio, to which Arthur bites back with a few colourful words tossed in.

Lovino moves his gaze away to the window, where people are still milling around. In the dispersing crowd, he spots Antonio briskly walking, donning a neat creamy trench coat and a pair of suitable winter boots. His prompted gaze triggers Arthur to look at the same direction. Antonio holds out a hand, showing that he sees them with a grin on his face before jogging towards the store.

The bell dings as Antonio enters, the tip of his nose a bit red and he appears to greet the inside of the cafe pleasantly. He bows his head a bit, “Ah, sorry I was late! The train was full so I needed to take another one!”

Lovino doesn’t take that shit as an answer so he glowers, “I thought that I fucking told you to depart at least one hour early.”

Unfortunately, Arthur takes that bullshit as a reasonable answer, he appears to practise being blunt and unforgiving, but when it comes to the stupid Spaniard, like Alfred says, he  _ does  _ have it bad.

“It’s fine.” Arthur says, and Alfred barely hides an amused snort as he pinches his nose.

Antonio smiles, and he exclaims, “Ah! There’s actually something I want to give you!”

Reaching for the inside of his trench coat, he pulls out a square-packaged parcel, Lovino not failing to notice that the wrapping is the same shade of green as Arthur’s eyes - and hands it over to the latter.

Arthur briefly gapes in surprise, he takes it, “You really don’t have to.” He mutters softly, and the fondness in those words are massive and unguarded.

“You can open it now, if you want to.” Antonio casually says, but Lovino sees his fingers twitching nervously.

“Okay then.” Answers Arthur before nimble fingers carefully pick open the wrapping. He pulls out a folded cloth, to which unfolds as it is held up above the ground, and Lovino recognises it as the same checkered scarf that he and Bella had a fashion crisis over.

Arthur’s eyes widen in surprise, “It’s beautiful.”

Antonio lets out a small sigh, satisfied and fingers relaxing. He smiles, “Well, it’s all thanks to Lo -”

“Why don’t you help him wear it, Toni?” Lovino expertly cuts in.

Antonio shuts his mouth, he casts a look at him before stepping forward, “Ah - okay - May I?”

Arthur nods, “Sure.” He hands it back to him, and Antonio wraps the scarf gently around his neck, turning him around by the waist and earning a chuckle from Arthur as he ties a ribbon at last.

“There.” He chirps before saying, “Shall we go now?”

Arthur nods, and Antonio has the (thank-honest-to-GOD) bravery to link their hands together, he gives a peace sign at Lovino, “Make sure you enjoy your date with Alfred!”

Lovino scoffs, turning his head to the side, “None of your business, bastard. Just go already.”

Alfred slings an arm around him, pressing him against his chest, and Lovino totally doesn’t think about how warm Alfred is or how packed his muscles are, just like an oversized and hot teddy bear.

“See ya, Arthur! If you don’t even come home tonight, it’s fine! Treat him properly, Toni!” He then sends a wink that is too encouraging and suggestive, and Lovino’s glad that it’s not directed at him because he’d probably explode in sheer humiliation.

Arthur looks  _ so  _ done with him and practically stomps out of the door with fury and definitely embarrassment, he is still holding Antonio’s hand by the way.

Lovino looks up to see Alfred grinning widely, teeth in full show, some pooling happiness swirling inside his marine eyes. He asks incredulously,

“Is your cousin going out on a date that important to you?”

Alfred blinks, humming loudly in thought before saying, “Would you be fine that your bff is going out on a date with my cousin?”

Lovino sneers, “Asshole, what kind of question is that? Of course I’m fine.”

“Then you have your answer ~ “ Alfred singsongs before directing them towards the nearest table, which is placed beside the colourful Christmas tree.

He lets him go and ushers Lovino into a seat, leaving him in a state of confusion but he does it nevertheless. Alfred takes the other one across him, putting his arms on the table before leaning in.

“Is there something bothering you?” He asks, voice not actually quiet and worried, still using his obnoxious tone, but there’s a bit of tuning down, and the casted light from outside drowns him in artificial light that shouldn’t make him prettier.

Lovino blinks, because there is something bothering him, but he instinctively turns his head to his left, avoiding Alfred’s honest sky eyes, and lies, “No.”

He prays that Alfred will just leave him be, but Alfred doesn’t do that, opting to say, “You know, you’re bad at lying.”

Lovino winces, because it’s true. Lying is prone to be useless when you’re brought up with a sibling that can practically read what you’re thinking about all the time.

However, Alfred knows he has taken it too far and is only mere seconds away from eating Lovino alive, because he stands from his chair, smiling. “I’ll make you a drink.” Saying lightly, he heads towards the counter.

Lovino watches in the near darkness as Alfred navigates himself to pick up a mug from one of the cupboards, and he doesn’t know what the American is doing, but soon his nose is hit with the strong scent of rich coffee and his ears pick up the sound of spoon clinking against glass. It is calming, and Lovino wanders his eyes expectantly as Alfred comes back with two mugs of steamy drinks.

He sets a mug with the Italian flag in front of him, and Lovino curls it between his fingers, relishing in the heat. Sniffing on the strong wafting of coffee, he takes a sip, the strip of water burningly rolling down his tongue. And he lets out a noise of pleasure.

“Good?” Alfred quirks an eyebrow, fingers around a mug with the American flag.

Lovino says, mind hazy from the deliciousness. Do kitchen skills get passed down that easily in his family? “Delicious.”

Alfred beams, taking his own sip from his mug, “Well, I’m the one who earned this cafe ‘serving the best espresso in the area’ thingy, but it’s only true when I’m around!”

Lovino lets that sink in, “So if it isn’t good, you’re not the one making it?”

He waves a hand carelessly into the air, “Arthur can make some freaking good coffee, but in the end, he’s obsessed with tea. Nah, no coffee here is bad. You should try the maple iced coffee next time! That’s my bro’s specialty!” He points at a huge jar of maple syrup displayed on top of the glass counter.

“I’ll remember that.” Lovino nods, closing his eyes to indulge himself in the perfect bitterness staining his throat.

He flutters open his eyes when he hears the sound of something clicking, and he can feel himself freeze in horror as Alfred has his phone out (latest IPhone model, of fucking course), which is pointing directly at him.

Before Lovino can burst out and scream angry murder at him, Alfred grins sheepishly, a finger scratching his cheek, “Sorry. You just looked kinda cute.”

And that -

Lovino blinks.

And he shrieks, “What?!”

“Woah, woah, buttercup. Calm down.” Alfred says like he’s saying to a baby, and Lovino is not a baby, thank you - adding to his currently complicated feelings of being tomato mush and a human volcano mixed with the aftermath of eating too much spicy food.

Being the civilised Italian man he is, Lovino swallows any curse words he had been very ready to spit out and stays silent, lips bitten down as he can feel his face reaching the temperature equivalent to a frying pan on a stove.

“Do you want to see it?” Alfred prompts, oblivious to his inner and outer turmoil, Lovino’s ready to retort but Alfred has already shoved his phone into his face, leaving him with no decision but to stare at the dreaded picture.

All he can see is him closing his eyes and enjoying a cup of coffee, with the small smile quirking up his lips. The background behind him is well-oriented, the lights from the decorative tree dancing over him and reflecting against the glass window, creating a wave of Christmassy auroras, showcasing the brilliant photography talent Alfred possesses that he’s heard plenty of.

Frankly, he looks hideous and the background looks magnificent. That’s it.

So he sneers, “Delete it.”

“Aww!” Alfred mockly relents, “Nope!” He pops the _p_ loudly, and Lovino watches with an unmotivational sense of dread as he pockets his phone.

Lovino huffs through his nose, pulling the mug back to his lips and continuing to drink the coffee, keeping both eyes on Alfred in case he’s about to pull off another stupidly nice and romantic plan.

Alfred doesn’t, he tilts his head and genuinely twinkles, “Wanna talk about it?”

Lovino hesitates, he takes a long sip and asks, “Why did you pick photography?”

“But I took Robotics too?”

“Cut the crap. I’m asking only about photography, idiot.” He says with no bite.

Alfred leans into his seat, staring up at the ceiling, “Because it’s the only Arts that I excel in.”

“I find that hard to believe.” Remarks Lovino.

“It’s kinda true though. Like, I can’t draw for shit, robotic sketches don’t count. I can’t write glamorous stuff, stories or poems - and I have no talent whatsoever in handicraft.”

He pauses, “But one day, at Arthur’s mom’s house, I played with this old camera. And when I showed the pictures to Mattie, he said that they came out beautiful.”

Grinning adoringly, he says, “The praise from my brother when we were kids was the one that made me choose photography.”

Lovino nods, understanding, then Alfred drops his head to look at him, eyes twinkling in mirth, “How about you? What’s the reason you choose Arts?”

Shrugging, he settles, “My grandpa has a deep fondness towards it, and I love it.”

“You don’t sound happy about it though.” Alfred points out after a beat.

“I’m exhausted lately.” Lovino says, and doesn’t say about everything recently being a blur.

Alfred might have sensed it, he can’t be sure about it since Alfred is an enigma of his own; a stack of unfinished films that are yet to be dipped and hung in cherry red light, only pieces of black memories with nothing inscripted.

“Ah, man, sorry. It’s supposed to be our Christmas date but we’re talking about some pretty dark stuff.” He rubs the back of his head, and Lovino’s surprised to see him looking genuinely concerned.

He puffs a breath at his ridiculousness, feeling his mouth curving in a small smile, “It’s letting us get to know each other, you shouldn’t be sorry.”

“I shouldn’t?” Alfred blurts out, then he apprehensively asks, “If so, can I know what you’re doing for the collab?!”

Lovino has forgotten about it, that Alfred’s even here because of the upcoming collab event after New Year’s, and the email containing the answer he had sent to Gilbert after helping out a chicken to successfully woo his mate.

He has forgotten about it, but it doesn’t mean that he’ll say it.

“No. You need to see for yourself.” He answers, barely biting back a laugh as Alfred gasps in disbelief.

“But that means I have to wait! Pretty please, buttercup?” Alfred whines, mug of coffee forgotten as he pouts in retaliation.

“Maybe if you take me out on more dates, not involving your cousin’s cafe. I’ll reconsider it.” Lovino interjects smoothly, taking another sip of coffee. He looks through the rim, “Why do you keep calling me buttercup, anyways?”

Alfred perks up, “You don’t like it?”

“It’s obnoxious.” Lovino lies, but the tone he’s using is definitely defining the opposite.

And Alfred notices, and Alfred winks, and the next line is smooth and very cheesy that Lovino curses himself at how the start of this long upbringing, descending into madness situation, is because of a morning-routined train ride and a chaotic Spaniard.

“Because you’re the joy of my life!”

**From:** [ **lovinovargas@vargasarts.it** ](mailto:lovinovargas@vargasarts.it)

**Dear Professor,**

**I would like to use the concept of “Buttercups and A Golden Thread”.**

**And before you bombard me with questions, yes, it’s a romantic theme.**

**Thank you and have a nice day, jackass**

**From,**

**Lovino Vargas**

**Author's Note:**

> I'M SORRY THAT IT'S LATE DJKJCBCDLSIEUHVHLERHC;OFHCOEHIRHHHHHHHHHHHH
> 
> But here it is! I tried putting all the desired tropes together, and what's born is this - honestly, I'm disappointed but this baby is for you, please take this, please take this bundle of 13k words. (I just want to make it 8k but my fingers lose control, and I had too much fun writing about their friendship, I'm SORRY)
> 
> I'm sorry if you don't like it! I still tried my hardest, so please forgive me. But if you do like it, then I'm glad!
> 
> Thanks for letting me write about them, now Amemano's going to have a special place inside my heart <3


End file.
